


Laundry Day

by JustAnotherBlonde



Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic Akatsuki Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Laundry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherBlonde/pseuds/JustAnotherBlonde
Summary: Laundry day at the seaside Akatsuki hideout turns out to be much more of a disaster than it ought to be.The door was unlocked, and as it swung open to her touch, the sight which greeted Konan’s eyes was nightmare-inducing: stockings and leggings, shirts and undershirts, underpants—far too many—strewn over every available chair-back, bedpost and tabletop, mingled with mounds of clay and half-formed sculptures.A stocking stuffer forpewpewpewfor the Akatsuki Gift Exchange 2020 😈
Relationships: Deidara & Hidan (Naruto), Hoshigaki Kisame & Konan, Hoshigaki Kisame & Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27
Collections: Akatsuki Gift Exchange, why im sleep deprived 💖✨





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> your prompt was to write about your fav characters "being dumbasses in domestic situations" and since we've now collectively resolved to fill the niche of Domestic Akatsuki Fluff... well, i hope you enjoy!

Calm sea, warm sunlight, blue sky, white clouds and a gentle breeze: it was a picture perfect day outside the hideout. Hidden on a tiny island which Mizu no Kuni barely knew it possessed, this place with its peach-colored stucco walls, labyrinthine layout, and garden courtyards was easily one of Konan’s favourite Akatsuki bases. She always felt like she was on holiday when they stayed here.

Humming to herself with an armful of dirty clothes, she tapped lightly on the door to Deidara’s room.

“Deidara-kun? Are you in there?” she called sweetly. “I’m about to do a load of laundry. Do you have any clothes for me to—”

The door was unlocked, and as it swung open to her touch, the sight which greeted Konan’s eyes was nightmare-inducing: stockings and leggings, shirts and undershirts, _underpants_ —far too many—strewn over every available chair-back, bedpost and tabletop, mingled with mounds of clay and half-formed sculptures.

“Gods above and below, he’s only been on furlough here for a _week_ ,” she cursed under her breath. She gingerly stepped over a half-melted lump of clay and set to work plucking up piece after piece of clothing and slinging them over her arm.

Laughter and shouting floated in through the window. Konan’s eyebrows pinched together.

“Who…?”

She peered out and immediately rolled her eyes. Hidan was chasing Deidara across the beach. Deidara clutched Hidan’s swimming trunks in a triumphant fist and waved them over his head like a flag as he ran.

“Get the fuck back here you little shit!” Hidan roared. He and Kakuzu had only arrived on the island yesterday, and despite how much time Hidan liked to spend naked, his skin was blindingly pale.

“Ahahaa!” Deidara cackled. “Catch me first, mn!”

Konan smiled the moment she realized Hidan was about to pounce, then cackled heartily at his success: Deidara face-planted in the sand with his shorts around his ankles.

“You damned heathen, you’re lucky I don’t kill you!” Hidan grunted as he wrestled Deidara for his shorts.

With his foot in Hidan’s face, Deidara put up a worthy fight. “If you wanna fight me, you crazy cultist, you’re the one who’s going down, mn!”

“Chi~ildren!” Konan called out the window in a mildly threatening tone. “If Akatsuki loses someone over this, it’s coming out of the paycheck of the one who survives.”

They both simultaneously flipped her off. Konan blinked and fought the urge to dump all of Deidara’s clothes into the trash.

She sighed as she stepped out into the corridor.

“Hey, Konan-san,” a shirtless Kisame greeted. “Have you seen my—”

Konan glared at him. “What? Your shirt?” She shook the reeking bundle of clothes in her arms. “It’s in here.”

“Well, I need it,” he said, spreading his hands helplessly. “I’m supposed to leave for a mission.”

“What, right now? Your shirt stinks. It needs to be washed.”

“Why wasn’t it—”

“Excuse me?!” Konan’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “Were you about to imply that _I_ should have washed _your_ shirt sooner?”

“No, I—”

“You know what?!” she growled, her orange eyes flaming. She shoved the pile of clothes into Kisame’s outspread arms. “Why don’t one of _YOU_ do the laundry for once?!”

“I’m supposed to leave _now_ , Konan-san,” he grumbled. He shifted the pile of clothes to one arm and half-heartedly searched through it with the other. With an expression resembling a kicked puppy, he shrugged and gave up his fruitless search.

“You can’t go anywhere. You have no shirt!” she countered. She crossed her arms and tapped a finger on her bicep. Beneath the origami flower in her hair, a vein on her forehead was pulsing. “How hard can it be for you to wash clothes?! Use Suirō no Jutsu and just… add soap.”

Kisame cocked his head and blinked at her, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “I’d… never… thought of that. I can do that. It’s nothing. Where’s the soap?”

Momentarily stunned, it took a moment for Konan to reply. “Oh! Oh, it’s… follow me…”

*

While Kisame stretched the clothesline between two palm trees in the courtyard, Konan shook out another pair of Deidara’s underwear, but the flecks of white paper were practically cemented on.

“I’m _so_ sorry…” she said for the twelfth time. “I usually check my pockets…”

“It’s okay, Konan-san,” Kisame repeated gently. “We _should_ be able to pick it off once everything’s dry… Probably…”

A warm breeze whispered through the palm fronds above their heads. Sunlight filtered through the foliage, dappling the courtyard path and the unruly profusion of tropical flowers that had taken over the garden.

Itachi appeared at the doorway to the villa in a simple bathrobe. He approached Konan and Kisame, blinking sleepily.

“Do you need any help?” he asked with a yawn. His eyes grew wide when he saw the pile of mostly black clothes coated in wisps of paper. “What… happened?”

“I left a whole pack of paper in one of my pockets…” Konan replied with a sheepish grin.

Itachi picked up Deidara’s mesh shirt. The paper bits were mixed into it so badly that it had clumped into a ball. He scanned the basket of clothes.

“How is this… all mostly Deidara’s? I’ve only got two sets of clothes. Which both seem to be in here… I guess we can’t leave just yet, Kisame.”

“I hadn’t realized you two needed to leave so soon…” Konan said apologetically. “You were sleeping when I came in to take your clothes, Itachi…”

“It’s so peaceful here,” Itachi said, half-heartedly picking at the wad of soggy paper that had once been Deidara’s shirt. “I always hate to leave… This is a good excuse to stay a little longer.”

Sighing with an air of finality, Itachi gave up on Deidara’s shirt.

“This is unsalvageable,” he intoned, eyes closed. “Best to put it out of its misery.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Kisame asked through a mouthful of clothespins. He was hanging a row of white stockings on the line.

“I was just going to throw it away…” Itachi replied, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. “What…”

“You should burn it!” Kisame smirked. “Deidara would like that. A hero’s ending.”

Itachi nodded solemnly, suddenly emanating a devilish aura. “Alright.”

He hurled the shirt high into the air just as Deidara and Hidan entered the courtyard, both now thankfully clothed in their swimming trunks.

“Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!” Itachi exclaimed, eyes flashing as he made the hand signs.

Deidara’s shirt disintegrated in a ball of flame.

“What was that, mn?” Deidara asked as he sidled over, his hands resting on top of his head. He eyed the pile of paper-infested clothing with growing trepidation.

Itachi regarded him with a deadpan look. “It was your shirt.”

“My… _what?! WHY??”_

Deidara leapt for Itachi’s throat before anyone had a chance to explain.

“I’m _never_ doing laundry for them _ever_ again,” Konan muttered to herself as she moved the basket of clothes out of harm’s way.


End file.
